


A Sailor's Song

by purple_bookcover



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Annette Week 2020, F/F, Pirates, Siren, i don't know anything about sailing lol good luck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24169021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_bookcover/pseuds/purple_bookcover
Summary: Sailing has rules. First and foremost, in Petra's mind: Don't trust sirens.When pirate captain Petra finds siren Annette singing on a rock, however, all the rules change.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Petra Macneary
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	A Sailor's Song

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Annette Week Day 7! I was inspired by the "pirate" prompt and the fact that it's mer-may (sirens are kinda mermaids?). I thought Petra would be a cool lesbian pirate and Annette is the obvious choice for the siren.
> 
> Also, I wrote sea shanties. If you want my reference for the shanties, [this was my primary source](https://www.whalingmuseum.org/sites/default/files/pdf/Sea%20Chantey%27s%20and%20Sailors%3B%20Songs.pdf).

Sailing had rules.

Spoken ones, like “avoid that sandbar” and “scrub the saltwater off the iron so it doesn’t rust.” But also unspoken ones, like “don’t fuck with sirens.”

Fortunately for Petra, sirens kept to rivers, the narrow byways between and through islands. Petra kept to the sea, to wide, open water free of rocks and sandbars and, most importantly, gods damned sirens.

“Storm’s brewin’,” the woman beside Petra said. 

“Yeah,” Petra said.

“Gonna push us inland, if I had to guess.”

Petra didn’t bother responding. Cai wasn’t guessing. Cai never guessed. That’s why she was Petra’s first mate, her most trusted crew member, insofar as any pirate could trust any other. 

“Shall I give the order?” Cai said.

“Go,” Petra said with a nod. 

Her first mate swung into action. Petra remained at the bow, watching the clouds tighten like bunching fists, smelling the storm in the air. 

She trusted her crew. They’d get through this. But that didn’t mean it would be pleasant.

#

Oh, blow on down, blow on down,  
with wind and wave and mighty gust,  
blow on down, blow on down.

Oh, blow high, blow low, blow on down,  
dash on rock and sand and shore,  
blow on down, blow on down,

“Hold fast,” the captain cries,  
but the waves rise high,  
the wind gusts by,

“Steady her,” the captain cries,  
but the sea does surge,  
the water does rise

Oh, blow high, blow low, blow on down,  
to the bottom of the sea,  
blow on down, blow on down

#

The rain lashed the deck of the ship. The waves rolled the Hunter’s Boon, sending it lurching so far to one side that Petra had to grip the railing to keep from going overboard. She could feel no relief when it straightened, as it tipped drunkenly to the other side. 

They swayed and rocked like this for what seemed the entire night. The storm raged on and on, the waves growing every moment, the wind a constant roar in Petra’s ears. 

They lost more than one to those grasping waves, lost them to dark swirls of purple-black water that swallowed them like a hungry maw. 

Petra would cry for her women later – for they were all women, at least on this ship – but for now, she had to see them through this. 

There was little Petra could do for her crew aside from shout instructions they already well knew and cling to the railings herself. 

But all storms relent, eventually. This one did, too. 

They’d been blown far off-course, far off any course at all. Far inland, wedged between the islands that had taken the brunt of nature’s fury. 

Far up river.

#

What shall you do when your ship runs aground?  
 _Runs aground, runs aground, runs aground_  
What shall you do when land is close and the sea so far?  
 _When sea is far, sea is far, sea is far_

When you lose your way,  
When you leave open sea,  
Squeeze into the rivers,  
The corridors of sirens

What shall you do when your ship runs aground?  
 _Runs aground, runs aground, runs aground_  
In the treacherous corridors of the sirens  
 _When the sea is far, sea is far, sea is far_

#

They limped down the river, left to the whims of wind and current while they mended their sails and pumped water out of the bilge. Not even Cai knew if they were headed closer to the sea or farther from it. Sometimes, the river seemed to curl back on itself, like it was turning them in circles. 

Petra shook her head. That wasn’t possible, not without magics she dared not imagine. Some said the sirens wove spells to confound sailors, to draw ships nearer until they could ensnare them with their voices. 

Petra chose not to believe it. Another rule of sailing: Trust what you can touch. Waves. Storms. Saltwater. Rust. Hunger. These were tangible. These were real. Sirens and magic would have to wait. 

Petra had plenty to do during the hot, monotonous days of limping down the river. The fear of sandbars and shallow waterways loomed constantly. The feeling of circling aimlessly like water winding down a drain pressed on Petra and her crew, as thick as the choking humidity inland. 

And then, at last, the inevitable call came, shouted from the crow’s nest:

“Land!”

It wavered ahead, distorted by the haze of hot, heavy air. If not for that, they might have more quickly seen the rocks, and the woman sitting on them. 

Even as her crew rushed to slow the ship and keep it from running aground, Petra squinted at that figure in the distance. Small and slight, with bright orange hair spilling past pale shoulders. She seemed heedless of the ship coming toward her. Her hands were clasped at her chest, which was covered by a gauzy garment that could have been made of seaweed. The woman looked like she was praying, her head tilted back and mouth open. 

But no, Petra realized, it wasn’t prayers that passed her lips. 

It was music. 

“Siren,” Petra gasped. Then, louder: “Siren. Siren!” 

Cai responded first, rushing to the bow. Her first mate started shouting orders even before Petra recovered herself, but it was too late. Petra could _feel_ the song even before she could hear it, could feel it like a worm wriggling into her ears, infesting itself between her thoughts. 

She slapped her hands over her ears, but that was no barrier to magic. Even plugging them didn’t stop the soft murmuring of the siren’s voice. It was like a vine slowly choking a waterway, growing no matter how Petra tried to cull it, until there was nothing left but the sound, soft but insistent, drumming inside Petra’s head, making everything go fuzzy at the edges. 

She didn’t remember uncovering her ears, pacing across the deck of her ship, climbing down, dropping into the water. She barely remembered swimming; only the shock of the water sparked anything at all in her consciousness. It seemed all Petra truly did was blink – then she was lying on the sand, choking out water, fighting for air that refused to fit into her lungs.

“Oh goodness,” a woman cried. “Oh gosh, are you OK?” 

Despite that timid voice, the hands that pounded on Petra’s chest did so with so much force that she spit out a mouthful of river water. Air returned at last. Petra gasped and wheezed, shuddering as the painful breaths squeezed down her throat. 

When she finally caught her breath, Petra lay back in the sand, panting. Her head was still fuzzy, but the haze was fog burning off in the morning light. It would not hold. 

Someone was crouching over her, looking down with concern. Bright orange hair cascaded over pale shoulders. Eyes the blue of shallow waters watched Petra as the pirate sat up in the sand.

“Do you feel OK?” the orange-haired woman said. “I stopped as soon as I saw it hook you.”

“Stopped...” 

Petra startled. She scanned, found her ship anchored a good ways back from the sand and rocks where she sat now. 

Petra reeled away from the woman with a gasp, jerking to her feet. She patted at her hips, but even if she’d still had her pistols they would have been too water-logged to be of any use. 

The woman stood, hands clasped before her. She looked like she was wearing a dress woven of seaweed, loose green strands hanging lank from shoulders to knees. 

“Siren,” Petra said.

The woman sighed. “I prefer to go by Annette, if you don’t mind.” 

A dozen questions fought for space in Petra’s mouth, not least of which was the puzzle of whether sirens even _had_ names. But the query she voiced first was simply: “How am I not dead?”

Annette shrugged. “It’s like I said, I saw the song hook you and I stopped. You almost drowned, but you were close enough I could drag you to shore.”

“But...” Petra narrowed her eyes. “A siren’s song kills. Either the listener or, failing that, the siren herself. One of us must die.”

“Well, I didn’t say it didn’t hurt,” Annette said. Only then did Petra notice how tightly her hands were clasped, her knuckles white. “We both paid part of the price, I suppose.”

Petra liked it about as much as she believed it. _Trust what you can touch._

The siren took a step closer. Petra edged away reflexively. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Annette said. “I didn’t see your ship or I wouldn’t have sung at all.”

“How is it you did not spy an entire ship?” Petra said.

Annette laughed behind her hand, cheeks taking on a pretty flush. “Well, I’m not exactly the best at this sort of thing, I guess.” 

“At singing sailors to their doom?” 

“Oh! No, not that! I just meant, you know, noticing stuff.” 

The siren stepped closer still, but this time Petra held her ground. 

“I’m terribly sorry about what happened to you,” Annette said. “I really didn’t mean--”

Petra moved before the siren could utter another word. In one smooth motion, she twisted the creature’s arm behind her back. Petra still had one weapon left, the shiv at her belt. She drew it, placing the blade at the siren’s throat.

“Utter a single note and I’ll cut you open from ear to ear,” Petra said.

“I-I never meant to--”

“Shut up,” Petra said. 

The siren stiffened against her. Her orange hair smelled like salt water and sunlight; the scent made a wave of vertigo wash over Petra. 

She tightened her hold. Who knew what other tricks the creature possessed? She could have other ways of enchanting Petra. 

Petra removed the knife from Annette’s throat only long enough to wave for her ship. Cai waved in return. 

“What are you doing?” Annette said. 

“Since you saw fit to waylay me and my crew,” Petra said, “I’ll see fit to turn a profit from it.”

“What?”

“I imagine a magical beast can fetch a decent price.”

Annette gasped. “Oh, you mustn’t. Please. I didn’t mean to harm you.” 

That may have been true, but Petra was a pirate. Even if this singing siren wasn’t dangerous, as she so fervently claimed, she was worth something. Petra was sure of it. She was pretty and she was magical – someone would be willing to buy her.

“Do not fear,” Petra said. “You will not be my guest long.”

#

The siren did not sing. She hardly spoke. 

Even so, Petra kept a guard on her at all times of the day and night. There was always a knife against her slender throat, prepared to sever it should the slightest hint of a song emerge. 

Often, Petra took this duty upon herself. Her crew was loyal, reliable and efficient – the three things a captain needed most. She didn’t want to overburden them with her strange prize. 

Still, it made for an awkward voyage. They were able to assume they’d been going the wrong direction now, but were still helpless to reverse coarse in the narrow river. Instead, they followed it, vowing to stop at the first port they found. 

“I know where you are,” the siren said one day.

Petra was standing with her on the aft deck, holding that knife against her neck. “Hm.”

“It’s the right way, for what it’s worth,” Annette said.

“Oh, you’re a sailor now? Or have you simply killed enough of us that you learned a thing or two?”

“I haven’t killed any, thank you,” Annette said. “Well, there was that one, but that was a mistake.”

“A mistake,” Petra said. “You mean to tell me you killed accidentally, Siren?” 

“Yes,” Annette said. “It was … it was a long time ago. A boy in a boat. I was just a child myself and I thought I could impress him by singing for him. But he … he got out of his boat and swam toward me and...”

“Never made it to shore?” 

Annette nodded, only seeming to remember the blade against her skin after it prickled her throat. 

Petra heard a sniffle. When she looked down at her captive, she saw tears shimmering on the siren’s cheeks. 

“Are you crying for him?”

Annette nodded again. “He was just a boy.”

“You are a siren,” Petra said. “You do not cry for the people you drown.” She could hear herself nearly growling, anger rising unbidden. How dare this creature feel pity for her prey? 

But Annette’s sadness was not chased off by Petra’s anger. “My sisters cast me out then. That’s why you saw me there alone.” She looked over at Petra, smiling through her tears. “You know, in a way, it’s kinda nice being captured by you. I spend so much time by myself.”

Petra hesitated, her anger abruptly cooled. This had to be some trick of the siren, some way of magically inducing pity the creature did not deserve. 

Petra shook herself. Annette – the siren, Petra reminded herself, the _siren_ – deserved only wariness. She’d better be worth the trouble she was causing, too. Petra could imagine many a rich man who’d like a pretty little siren to display as a symbol of his status and power. 

“Where are we going?” Annette said. 

“Wherever we need to to turn you into a profit,” Petra said. “Everyone on this ship earns their keep and you will too.” 

Annette frowned. “I see.” Her light eyes scanned the deck of the ship rather than looking out at the water. 

The siren brightened suddenly. “I could earn it another way,” she said. “I know a lot about the water. Like those clouds out there, they mean we’re getting close to open water.”

“Every sailor knows that,” Petra grumbled, but she followed Annette’s pointing finger and sure enough, there on the horizon, thick, dense clouds – far too dense for the hot inland air to sustain. 

Annette was looking at her a little smugly, despite the knife still at her neck. “See?” she said. “I can help.” 

The siren must have cast some sort of spell because Petra’s heart leapt up into her throat for a moment, keeping her from responding. Annette’s pale eyes watched her, wide and hopeful, and Petra felt a wrenching in her gut, like magic was knotting her insides and making butterflies beat in her chest. 

Petra swallowed, adjusting the knife against Annette’s throat and glaring out at the clouds on the horizon. The second they reached open water they could plot a course and be rid of the wretched creature at last. 

Petra just had to keep her head clear until then.

#

Returning to open water was like inhaling after holding their breath for days on end. The sea spread out before them, dazzling in the sunlight, calm and still and endless. Cai was able to get their bearing and set a course for the nearest port town, one where Petra knew a wealthy landowner or two who might be interested in a singular prize. 

Petra caught herself just as she began humming in anticipation. The siren glanced over at her, but Petra merely pressed the knife to her neck and studied the clouds, acting as though the snippet of song had never occurred.

Just a little easy sailing and she could be rid of the creature. Just a short hop through clear, calm waters and Petra could collect enough gold to give her and her crew a well-deserved break before their next adventure. 

“You know,” Annette said, “I’ve heard some of your crew talk about … about what’ll happen to me.” 

“Hm.”

“It doesn’t sound very nice,” Annette said. 

“Not my problem,” Petra said. “Once I get paid, it’s out of my hands.”

“I see,” Annette said. 

Her voice fell as she spoke. If it was a song, it was a ballad, sad and long and quiet, murmured more than sung. 

Petra swallowed, but she had to grip the knife harder to keep her hand steady. Annette was a siren; the creature didn’t deserve any kindness. Had she shown the boy she’d drowned any kindness? 

_It was an accident._

Sure, according to a siren it was an accident. Who knew how many countless others weren’t accidents?

_She saved you._

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t...” Annette trailed off. 

Petra tightened her hold. “Whatever spell you’re weaving in my mind, you’d better stop.”

“I’m not,” Annette said. “I haven’t sung since you found me.” 

Some part of Petra instantly believed Annette, some part that lurched in her chest like it was pounding to be heard. 

Before she could shove it aside, she heard a cry from the crow’s nest:

“Ship! Ship ahead!” 

Petra spun toward the voice, dragging Annette with her. “What kind?”

“Empire Navy!” 

Petra’s stomach plummeted into her feet. Her blood ran cold. She removed the knife from Annette’s neck without another thought, rushing toward her crew. 

“Ready the cannons,” she shouted. “Get belowdeck. Man the guns. Cai, keep us on a steady course.” 

When Petra whirled back around, she found Annette watching her with wide, scared eyes. “What’s happening?” the siren said.

“Gods damned navy,” Petra said. She stomped away. 

But Annette was fast on her heels. “What does that mean?”

“Lawmen,” Petra said. “They don’t take too kindly to pirates. They’ll fire before asking any questions.” 

Annette gasped. 

“Get those sails up,” Petra shouted as she paced across the deck, setting her crew into motion. They were fast but not frantic, rushing to their stations, preparing the ship for the battle to come with cool efficiency. 

“I can help,” Annette said. 

Petra spun. “Stay out of the way.”

“But I can really help.”

“Stay. Out. Of. The. Way.” Petra waggled the knife. “And for the goddess’ sake, stay _silent_.”

Petra did not wait for Annette’s agreement. She didn’t like leaving the siren loose, but there were far more pressing concerns now. Concerns such as the ship barreling directly toward them. Whomever was leading it seemed to want to ram them. The Hunter’s Boon could take a hit, maybe two, but it would leave them limping and that would be when the lawmen stormed the decks. 

Petra couldn’t let that happen. She ran to her quarters, where she found her sword belt and buckled it around her waist. She also retrieved her pistols, one heavy iron weapon per hand. If the lawmen wanted to board her ship, they’d have to get through her to do it.

By the time she left her quarters, the navy ship was already closer – much closer. The Hunter’s Boon shuddered. A boom erupted, like thunder right below Petra’s feet. Then the cannons sent a volley at the navy ship. 

It struck. Petra saw wood fly, heard distant shouts. But the navy ship did not stop. 

“Prepare yourselves, you miserable wenches,” Petra shouted. “They’re gonna ram us.” 

And they did. The blow struck like a wave crashing against the deck. The Hunter’s Boon shivered and rolled. The crew tottered, holding to rigging and railings to keep themselves steady. 

But the old girl also gave just as good as she got. Petra saw the lawmen stumble, saw their ship reel back after delivering the blow. It was a draw, at worst. 

Petra cocked the hammers of her pistols. 

It wouldn’t stay a draw for long.

She could see people in uniform gathering. Ladders spanned the gaps between her ship and the navy ship. Her crew swarmed, pistols and swords drawn; Petra and her women were no strangers to fights – in part because the makeup of the crew led some to mistake them for an easy target. 

“Cover your ears.”

The battle haze lifted, replaced with shock. Annette was running along the deck, shouting “cover your ears” over and over. She was rushing at the navy ship, running ahead of Petra’s crew, alone and unarmed, save for her voice. 

The lawmen were confused enough by the woman dashing onto the boarding ladders that they paused. Annette stopped between the two ships. She gave Petra and her crew one last look. Then she clasped her hands at her heart and began to sing. 

Petra slapped her hands over her ears, plugging them with her fingers. 

“Back,” Petra shouted. “Back, away from her.” 

Her crew heeded, covering their ears as they fled as far from Annette as possible. 

In the rush, Petra could not hear what Annette was singing, but she could _feel_ it, could feel it in her very bones, vibrating through her blood. It made her want to step closer to the siren, but she grit her teeth and resisted. It was only a tiny tug, a gentle pull that Petra could shake if she focused on her crew instead.

They seemed to be safe. Many looked dazed. A couple took a halting step or two, but others yanked them back. 

Petra could not say the same for the lawmen. 

They wavered as they moved to Annette’s song. Petra expected to see them jumping off the ship, drowning horribly one by one, but they didn’t. Silently, inexplicably, they started returning to their ship, calm and orderly. Annette had to step off the ladder when they hauled it back onto their ship.

Both ships creaked and groaned as they separated. Then the navy ship turned and sailed away.

An entire navy ship. Just gone. Peacefully bobbing away over the water.

Annette wavered for a moment, then collapsed to the deck.

Petra didn’t think before unplugging her ears and rushing to the siren. Annette was pale, even paler than before, and breathing in shallow gasps.

Petra cradled Annette in her lap, feeling the siren’s clammy skin. It was as though she suddenly had a fever, though Petra knew this was no earthly ailment. 

“Why?” Petra said. 

Annette smiled. “I wanted … to help.” 

“Why?” Petra demanded, louder, struggling not to shake the frail woman in her arms. “We meant to sell you like a trinket and you saved us. Even though it will harm you. Even though you will die for not killing us. Or them.”

Annette laughed, a weak, watery sound. Her eyes were glassy when she managed to open them and look up at Petra. With one quivering hand, she ran a finger along Petra’s cheek. “I never meant to harm anyone.”

“But you will die,” Petra said again. 

Annette smiled. “Seems so.” 

Annette’s fingers were still trailing over Petra’s skin, tracing along her jaw and lips as though discovering every curve. 

Petra took her hand, seized by a sudden swell of emotion. She held Annette closer, close enough to cradle her head. Annnette’s hand moved around Petra’s neck, pulling her the rest of the way to her lips. 

The siren’s mouth was soft and sweet. She kissed like a woman, like any ordinary woman. There was no magic behind it, no trickery, just the blissful, ordinary spell of welcoming, warm lips pressed against Petra’s. 

Petra shifted her hold, hugging Annette closer, chasing the heat of her mouth. Annette licked past Petra’s lips, pushing her tongue into Petra’s mouth. She kissed with fervor, with strength, gripping Petra’s shoulders.

Petra broke away with a gasp. The siren wasn’t as pale anymore, her eyes bright and vibrant, her lips blushing. 

Annette seemed to realize it an instant later. 

“How?” Petra gasped.

Annette released a hand, touching her own face and chest in awe. “I don’t know,” she said. A giddy smile spread across her face. “I don’t know.” 

Petra backed away. Annette sat up under her own power, but her joy withered to worry. 

“Are you still going to...” Annette said.

_Believe what you can touch._

Petra could touch Annette, a siren who sang without killing, a siren who’d saved her and her entire crew without drowning a single person. 

“No,” Petra said.

Annette smiled, broad and bright. But just as quickly it faded. “Does that mean I have to go back? Will you make me leave?”

Petra swallowed before standing. She offered a hand down to Annette. 

Annette accepted and let Petra pull her to her feet. 

“No,” Petra said. 

“Then...?”

Annette’s hand lingered in Petra’s, warm and solid and real. Petra squeezed, pulling Annette closer, slipping her free hand around Annette’s waist. 

“My crew is a bit thin,” Petra said, quiet, close to Annette’s lips again. “We have need of more useful hands on this deck.”

Annette beamed and Petra swept down to kiss her again, to press that smile against her own mouth. 

When they separated, Annette’s smile was still there, tangible, brilliant and beautiful.

“I can help,” she said.

#

Oh, hoist up your sails, catch a strong wind;  
 _As fast as you can, as swift as she’ll sail_  
Oh, catch a strong wind and run if you can;  
 _As fast as you can, as swift as she’ll sail_

We sailed ‘cross the sea on a fair, friendly wind,  
And spotted her on the horizon,

A ship like any other, or so we believed,  
At least ‘til we attempted to board her,

‘Twas then we heard song, a susurrus spell,  
Sung by a fire-haired beauty,

We woke the next day, half an ocean away,  
And remembered naught but that music,

We escaped with our lives, a mighty fine prize,  
But that song remained lodged in our hearts,

The song of a siren, her captain, her ship,  
The song of the ol’ Hunter’s Boon.

**Author's Note:**

> Literally, Annette and Petra don't even have a relationship tag on AO3. JFC. Well. Enjoy. It's mine now, I guess.
> 
> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


End file.
